


Is That Ass Gluten Free?

by creepstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, It's such a crack title, M/M, Office Sex, Office Shenanigans, Rimming, Secretary Castiel, Terrible Life AU, but this fic isn't crack, sorry about the title, trying new things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1925898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepstiel/pseuds/creepstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants to try something different for lunch.</p><p>Hint: It's not the new Korean BBQ down the street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is That Ass Gluten Free?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt on the kinkmeme:
> 
> Cas getting eaten out and loving it.

Castiel is still a little strung out and loose limbed from their mid-morning quickie in one of the supply closets. It's terribly cliche, yeah, and not the hottest thing in the world. There are some hazards to having sex in a confined space, accidental concussions from falling objects included.

Fortunately, that only happened three times.

Today there are no injuries, just a too-fucked-out-to-be-productive secretary with bright eyes and sex hair. The latter escapes suspicion because it's an everyday thing, sex or no sex. There is a lazy sway to his hips as he makes his way to the water cooler. His mouth is dry, his throat is raw, courtesy of one their, ahem, two-man team building _exercises._

Yeah, nope. He doesn't make it very far.

He gives an undignified yelp as he is pulled backward into—surprise, surprise—his boss's office. Before he can so much as get out a surprised little "Dean, what" Castiel finds himself spun around and facing the man in question. He looks sheepish. 

"Didn't mean to startle you," is his version of an apology, which Cas accepts with a nod. 

"It's okay," he says, and he notices that Dean slumps into a more relaxed position where he is sitting at the edge of his desk. It's as if he thought Castiel would actually be upset. So, he just has to tack on a teasing, "Sir."

Lips twitch at that three-letter word. Amusement. Dean never was the boss hung up on formality, and their work relationship had been unconventional from the start. Before the sex, even.

So, how could Dean possibly think he would be anything but okay with this? He is probably going to be having another orgasm relatively soon. The pair of them will. What is there to complain about?

God, he will be coming dry by the end of the day, but that's fine. That's really, really _fine._ Mmm. It's one of those days. They are going to be working overtime, he is sure of it.

Cas is distracted enough that Dean has to clear his throat for attention.

"So, I'm eating in today."

There's something in that statement, in the other man's voice, that sends a shiver crawling in his spine. He blushes at his reaction, at how easily his mind jumped to sexual conclusions. Because okay. It's just lunch. All Dean wants is a nice, quiet in-office lunch. Cas can do that. Eating is important, too, arguably more important than sex. Still, he is disappointed. There's no hiding that.

Pushing his errant inappropriate thoughts aside, Castiel confusedly shuffles his feet. He doesn't see why a lunch request should warrant being pulled into the office like that. That kind of behavior is usually reserved for the times they engage in 'office shenanigans' as Dean likes to call them.

"Uh, did you bring your own lunch, or would you like me to pick something up? I heard from Garth, there's this new..." He shuts up when he sees the look Dean is giving him. It's pretty damn predatory, and it makes his skin itch in the good way. The anticipatory way. Bye bye, disappointment. Hello, aroused stammer. "I- I take it you're not in the mood for kim- kimchi fried rice?"

"No, Cas, I'd like to try something different," Dean reaches out to curl his fingers around his wrist to gently tug him nearer. He thumbs over Castiel's pulse, a light touch. It's careful in a way that catches Cas off guard. It makes his insides feel fluttery.

They haven't put a name to this thing, whatever this thing is between them. Moments like these make it seem like it could be _something._ He isn't sure how he should feel about it, but he knows it makes him feel a little dizzy.

These are the moments that he tucks away in his mind. Careful, because they could go floating off like tiny dandelion seeds, and he doesn't think letting them go would give him any new 'dandelions'. Dean isn't exactly Mr. Feelings.

With his trademark confused head tilt, Cas has to ask, "Well, what would you like?"

Dean leans in to deliver his answer. His breath on Cas's ear makes him feel all shivery again, especially when his mouth is close enough to _feel_ the smirk there.

"I would like to eat _you._ "

"Oh." The short syllable is a breathy one.

Here returns the confusion. Dean wants to eat him? He isn't sure what that expression is supposed to mean, but he has a few guesses.

It could refer to the way Dean is currently pulling him in for a kiss like he's a starved man. Hungry. It's like he wants to suck Castiel's very soul from him, like a Dementor—only, sexy. Not cataclysmic. Or, perhaps, he is talking about teasing Castiel's eager nipples with his tongue and teeth. Or, better yet, he plans to use his mouth to engulf Castiel's cock with a sloppy wet heat that's just so hnnngh.

Yeah, he would like that a lot.

He clutches at Dean's suit jacket, hips rolling. His responsive whimper gets lost in their kiss, which is convenient. He knows he's a noisy bastard; and if they're ever caught, it would probably be because of that. He thinks Dean should take some of the blame though. Who is the one wringing all these sounds out?

Exactly.

Cock dampening his underwear, Cas is glad he doesn't have to make a lunch run after all. It would have been severely awkward, bringing his boner out in public. It's much more comfortable here, rubbing against Dean's hip.

Dean obviously agrees.

He grips Cas's hips like handlebars, pulls him closer and just lets him rut for a couple minutes. Fuck. It's nice, but nice just isn't enough.

They are no longer kissing, just sharing air and faint presses of lips to skin that don't really count as anything. Dean plays with the fabric of Castiel's shirt, the hem where he was in too much of a hurry to properly tuck in. It's sloppy, it's unprofessional, and Cas hadn't even noticed it until now.

Well, it's not like it matters at this point.

"Get over the desk," Dean blurts between the little non-kisses he's placing along his jawline. His tongue darts out, almost tickling

He extracts himself from the clinging tangle of Cas, presumably to shut the door.

Castiel, being the good (read: horny) secretary he is, bends over the desk and awaits his next 'task.'

He doesn't have to wait much longer than a minute. 

"Pants down," Dean says roughly, and watches him loosen his belt and undo his slacks enough that they fall down on their own.

Cas just knows he's being watched without acually seeing so. It makes him squirm nervously, because he finally gets it as Dean's hands find grip in his hips once more and he lowers himself to his knees. He tugs his underwear down just enough to expose what's necessary. 

"Well, I guess, technically, this is eating out." Dean mutters, then blows a soft puff of air over Castiel's hole. 

The resulting shivers becomes a full-on shudder when Dean uses his thumbs to hold Cas open and jabs his tongue inside with no other preamble. He's licking in as deep as he can, tongue caressing Castiel's insides. 

"Oh, oh, _oh._ " His voice goes up a few pitches, like it does when he's very pleasantly surprised by something. "Dean, what, I never..."

It's almost like Dean is making out with his hole, the way he's working his lips and tongue. It's fucking filthy, in more ways than one, and Castiel loves it. 

He bites his fist, trying to muffle himself. 

Any other time, he might have been embarrassed by the sounds coming out if him—he's fucking _mewling_ , ugh—but it's just so good. It's new and and and...

"Deeeeaaan."

In response, Dean just spreads his hole wider and mumbles something indecipherable into it. Oh, that. That feels good, too. More than good.

Cas doesn't think it can get any better when Dean presses his lips firmly to his hole and _sucks._

God.

Oh _God._

His cock is trapped in his boxer briefs when he comes, filthy wet. He whines, but Dean isn't stopping. He resumes fucking his tongue into Castiel's fluttering hole. It has his toes curling, his thighs trembling, and his chest burning with breathlessness. It's so good, but it's so much. Tears burn in his eyes. 

This part is always a stroke to Dean's ego, getting Cas to orgasm more than once in quick succession.

"Dean, " Cas blurts the name in a sob as another orgasm hits him, overwhelming and almost entirely dry, save for one lonely dribble of spooge. "Nnnh."

"That's it, sweetheart," Dean whispers into the small of his back, probably palming his own dick. That's what Cas would guess with the way his breath is hitching. "You're so good."

Cas looks and feels fucked out, slumped over the desk with his face pressed into an open file folder that he maybe drooled on. That's another hazard of office sex, getting bodily fluids on important paperwork. 

A lazy smile curves Castiel's lips. God, he loves his job.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written Destiel in a very long time + this is unbeta'd, so I hope it was an okay fic.


End file.
